


Fractured Lights

by MidnightRavenFromTheClock



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: And Miguel's sister, But OC is an asshole, Child Abuse, Coco is young, Family Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Héctor is a good dad, Imelda is married to OC, Imelda's a bit ignorant to her children, Messing with family tree, Music ban is on full force, alternative universe, family is more than blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightRavenFromTheClock/pseuds/MidnightRavenFromTheClock
Summary: Messing with Rivera family tree AU, where Miguel is Imelda's son from her second marriage.Miguel loves his family, the problem is they don't seem to much love him. After all, their world revolves around the man who left, and their lives are defined by their hatred for him. But Miguel's life revolves around music. After a particularly violent confrontation with his father, Miguel finds his half-sister's secret stash of letters, and well... maybe this Héctor Rivera isn't such a bad guy.Landing in the land of the dead thought? So not what he had in mind.





	Fractured Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely fellow fans of Coco. I don’t usually do AUs, but I just couldn’t resist.
> 
> Now, I hope the story itself will explain what’s going on well enough, but just in case, here’s the deal. 4-5 years after Héctor ‘left’, Imelda married a second time, to a man named Nick and together they had Miguel. As you’ll soon come to see, Nick isn’t a good man, but I want to make it clear right now that Imelda doesn’t know what’s going on, she is too consumed with the shoe business. Most of the Rivera family won’t make an appearance, as they aren’t yet born, but some of them might come with different family relations.

A lost princess is saved by a brave hero who travels through heaven and hell for his beloved, meanwhile little Cinderella is living in hardship, only to finally find her happy ending. And that’s all _nice_ and _good_ , but Miguel knows a little secret, it’s all just kid’s tales. Mamá likes to say, _real life doesn’t work like that,_ _and there’s just no time for living in fairytales._ So Miguel learned this form an early age, and now at twelve years old, he certainly knows it for sure. And hey, spoiler alert, the hero never does return home. What a fraud. Though sometimes, his sister would try telling him stories… he’s _pretty sure_. It’s difficult to remember a time when Coco wasn’t spending all her time with her friends and her novio in the plaza, not that Miguel can blame her. Although in his more bitter moments, he does. But it’s not like he didn’t have fun. So yes, Miguel knows all this.

But Miguel also knows music. He knows the Cs and the A minors, how to hold his wrist _just right_ so that his fingers can dance along the strings easily. He knows which balm to use to soften the marks on his fingertips. Papá might not notice, but mamá knows what a musicians hands look like. If they saw…

Miguel shivers just thinking about it.

“You’re not getting sick are you?” A voice breaks Miguel’s train of thought.

For a moment, he panics, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Nothing!” He spins around and relaxes after coming face to face with his sister Coco. “Shouldn’t you be in the shop?”

Coco stares. “Slow day. Mamá said I could take the evening off.”

“Will you be meeting _Julio_?” Miguel teases.

His sister’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I will use my shoe.”

Chuckling, Miguel raises his hands in mock surrender. “Vale. I don’t even _want_ to know.”

“Uh-uh.” Coco backs away, fumbles with her purse. “Try to not get into trouble today, will you? They’re already mad about the vase.”

Miguel spreads his arms hopelessly. “How was _I_ supposed to know that was there?”

“Miguel.”

He hesitates “Can I come with you?”

Coco’s movements freeze. “What?” She faces him with a strange look in her eyes, as if trying to figure him out.

“You know, to town.” Miguel shifts under his sister’s gaze.

“It’s late.”

“So? You’re going?”

“I’m not a child.” Coco says and raises her hands quickly just as Miguel opens his mouth. “I know, I know, you’re all grown up. Take it up with mamá, okay?”

“Yeah, you be like that.” Miguel yells halfheartedly after Coco’s retreating back and then slumps in a chair. It’s not fair, he’s only six years younger and Coco goes to the plaza with her friends all the time while he’s stuck at home or the shop… _Of course_ she only cares about getting alone time with her _novio_.

Miguel sulks for a few minutes, before a smirk slowly spreads across his face. He bounces for the door, whistling into the garden. “Dante! Come here boy!”

Something falls over around the corner and suddenly Miguel is tackled by a very excited hairless dog. “Whoa, calm down boy.” Miguel laughs, trying to keep his balance. “You hungry? Guess what? We have the house to ourselves!” Dante darts past Miguel and straight into the kitchen. “Hey, wait up!”

Miguel opens the fridge. “Let’s see what we have here… oh!” He pulls yesterday’s chicken out, watching Dante’s mouth start to water. “I have the coolest idea for a new song,” He chuchs Dante one of the bigger pieces. “It’s about a school boy who can only talk through music. It’s like a disorder, so when he sings, everyone has to listen.” Miguel leans against the wall, watching Dante obliviously tear into the food. “If only. Mamá and papá will never understand. They think music is a curse. All because of that man.” Miguel leans closer to Dante. “But you understand, don’t you Dante?” He rubs Dante’s head, earning himself a big wet tongue.

“Miguel!” Mamá’s voice makes Miguel’s heart sink. In the doorway, his parents are staring between him and Dante with very unimpressed expressions.

“Uh…” He hunches into himself.

“What is the meaning of this?” Papá yells, storming towards Miguel and Dante.

“It’s just Dante.” Miguel tries, but papá is already hitting Dante with his bag, making the dog whine and scramble off. “No, stop! What are you doing?”

Papá whirls on him. “You bring a mutt into MY house and give him food that Imelda and I have worked day and night to earn!” Papá’s face is confronted with anger and Miguel shrinks back even more.

“I – I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s where our food keeps disappearing to.” Mamá realizes, she turns to papá, a deep tiredness in her glazed eyes. “Nick, I can’t…”

Papá gently rubs her arm. “You go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

She glances between Nicolás and Miguel. “Are you sure?”

Papá nods. “Of course, I’ll handle this.”

Miguel gulps. “Mamá-”

But mamá is already leaving with a sad shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” She says. Exhaustion is visible in her every word and every movement. It didn’t always used to be like this, but keeping a business running in a town that still sees you as the wife of the man who ran away is rather consuming, or that’s what his uncles tell him. Mamá just gets mad when anyone brings it up. _The business makes us stronger,_ she says.

As the bedroom door closes behind Imelda with a loud click and papá meets Miguel’s eyes with an angry frown, Miguel can’t help but wish for some of that strength. Perhaps _he_ should spend more time in the shop as well?

Miguel swallows heavily. “Dante’s my friend!” He defends, but pain explodes in his cheek as his face whirls to the side. When he looks back, Nicolás has his hand raised and his breathing is hot and heavy.

“Don’t talk back to me kid!” Nicolás hisses.

Miguel swallows down his tears. “I’m sorry, papá.” It’s hardly the first time he’s been hit, but each time is just as degrading. If only he could make a break for mamá’s room-

His father garbs Miguel’s hand in a vice grip, making the boy wince. “What a terrible child. Why are you always such a _disappointment_?”

Miguel flinches. Something clicks against the floor.

Surprised, Nick lets go in favor of picking up the fallen object. He twirls it around his rough and bruised fingers.

Miguel stifles a yelp and Nicolás’s eyes widen with realization. He stares at Miguel.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Miguel hurries to explain.

“It looks like a guitar pick.” Nick says, voice a terrifying kind of calm.

Miguel stammers backwards. “It’s not fair! This is _my_ life.”

“How dare you?” Nick hisses. “After what that man did to this family? What his _music_ did?”

“You don’t care about what he did! You’re just jealous!”

The guitar pick snaps between Nick’s fingers. However often Miguel’s seen his father drunk and violent, seeping with rage… he’s never seen that wild look in papá’s eyes. Miguel fears he’s finally pushed too far.

“Mamá!” Miguel screams before a hand snuffles his yells.

“What will you say? Hmm. In Imelda’s eyes music is the worst sin imaginable. She will disown you.” His father drags Miguel towards his room. “She and Coco would hate you for this, you useless child.” And Miguel stops screaming. _A musician is nothing but a useless bastard,_ mamá would often curse just loud enough for him to hear. Mamá and Coco only know music as the thing that ruined their lives.

Papá is right.

***

It’s just past midnight and Miguel is curled up under his covers, rubbing at wet eyes with frustration. The room is too empty. The space where his guitar would hide under the bed, the songbook in the top drawer of his desk, picture of Ernesto de la Cruz under the laundry basket... Miguel can feel all of it like a missing limb. Without those things his room is no longer his room, it’s just a space that belongs to them, to his family but never to him.

There’s a soft knock and Miguel’s entire body stiffens. But the gentle voice that whispers his name makes him settle back down.

“Miguel?” Coco asks gently, approaching the bed. “Mamá said you got in trouble again. What do I always tell you? You can’t-” Coco pulls Miguel’s covers down and gasps.

They stare at each other, Coco with her flawless skin and bright, innocent eyes. The perfect daughter. And Miguel, a black eye and cut lip. “Oh, Miguel.” Coco sits on the edge of the bed. Her face hardens. “I’m telling mamá, he can’t-”

“She knows.” Miguel cuts his sister off.

“No.” Coco shakes her head in denial. “She’d never allow it.”

“All she cares about is the shoe business! She’d rather look the other way than lose another husband.”

“She wouldn’t.” Coco whispers.

“She chooses not to know, it’s the same thing.” Miguel sighs. “Just leave me alone.”

“No.” She hesitates, runs her hands over her face. “Why do you insist on the music? You have to know there’s only one outcome.”

Miguel stares at his sister in shock. “You knew?”

“I’m not stupid, of course I knew.” Coco’s eyes trail to the floor. She sighs. “If you only stopped setting him off.”

What? Miguel gapes at his sister, his only ally. “Me? You… you’re just like them! You don’t care about me.” Miguel barely manages to keep his voice low enough to not wake the house up.

Coco shakes her head furiously. “No, Miguel-”

“You think you’re so perfect and I’m always the problem, right? But you know what? You’re always gone! You’re never here when it happens.” Miguel wipes at his wet eyes. The anger and injustice of it all is almost like a living thing, bubbling in his chest and ready to erupt after a decade of feeding and growing. He really though at least Coco was on his side. Turns out this entire time she was doing the exact same thing as mamá, as everyone in his life – looking out for herself.

Coco reaches for Miguel’s hand. “I’m doing my best.”

But Miguel jumps back. “You just hide. You’re a coward.” He scrubs his face furiously. "Just like your padre.”

Coco visibly flinches. “Don’t you dare.” She breathes, eyes hard and narrow.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit me?” Miguel challenges, before jumping from his bed with a small hiss of pain and limping to the room next door.

“Miguel!” Coco whispers. “What the hell are you doing?”

But Miguel already has the door locked. “I want to know what you’re doing in the plaza every day. Then I won’t be the only problem in this family.”

“Miguel!”

Miguel half aspects to hear the heavy footsteps of his papá, but Coco never raises her voice. Miguel might accept this for the olive branch it is, if he wasn’t so terribly angry and upset. He’s had the only thing that makes him happy taken away from him and selfishly, he wants his sister to get at least the taste of his suffering. So Miguel rummages through her drawers, finding a disturbingly high count of bras. Well, that’s a sight he won’t ever unsee.

He’s just about to give up when something catches his eye. “Whoa…” He reaches under the pile of bras. A book. A journal, maybe? It’s old and worn and stuffed with smaller papers. Miguel holds it carefully, afraid it will slip away. When he opens the first page, he expects to see Coco’s thoughts, but is greeted with unfamiliar handwriting on a yellowish paper that looks like it might dissolve into dust, any minute now. The handwriting is elegant, Miguel observes, if a little messy.

 _My dearest Coco,_ it reads, _you’d think being a musician, I’d be a master of words, but nothing I can think of in the human language describes how much I love you, or how much it hurts to be apart. I hope you know I think of you every day and that I am counting the days until I can hold you close again. Just don’t forget-_

“Miguel!” Papá’s angry yell makes Miguel flinch, almost dropping the letter in the process.

Coco’s voice sounds through the door. “No, papá. We’re just playing, it’s oka-”

“Open the door, Miguel!” Nicolás yells, banging against the door. Miguel backs away, clutching the book to his chest. He looks down at it and back at the rattling door, fear swimming in his chest.

***

Nicolás tears the door open and Coco scrambles inside, ready to defend her reckless brother. “Papá-” She freezes with shock.

The room is empty, her drawers, _the drawer_ wide open.

Nick runs towards the open window, trying to catch a look outside. He curses under his breath.

Coco gulps. _It’s_ gone.

***

It’s cold and dark and so, Miguel ends up in the only place he can think of when trying to imagine safety, his idol’s crypt. He curls up on the freezing floor and spreads the letters in front of him, studying them with wonder.

 _S- senor de la Cruz_ , Miguel had stammered to the portrait after crawling inside, _I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anywhere else to go._

Miguel can only hope he’s not disturbing some eternal rest. Being haunted is _the last_ thing he needs on top of everything else.

He picks up one of the many letters, holding his breath as his eyes start scanning the words.

_Mija,_

_I wish you could see the beautiful town I’m playing in tonight. They have four separate lakes and gorgeous castle-like buildings. Perhaps, once you’re older we will come back here together? And your mamá said you started dancing. She says you’re really good. I’m so happy you’ve found a passion that makes you happy._

“Coco used to dance?” Miguel wonders out loud. The idea of his well-behaved older sister enjoying such a forbidden activity is almost enough to give Miguel a headache. Then again, he never would have imagined her holding on to her wayward padre’s letters either. Mamá would kill her if she knew. Actually, papá probably would.

Miguel absentmindedly runs his fingers over the words, tries to imagine a man’s hands scribbling them, long before Miguel was born. He used to imagine mamá’s first husband big and self-righteous, a drunk who left at odd hours of the night, forcing mamá to nurse baby Coco all on her own. But now, now Miguel closes his eyes and sees a soft face and kind, warm eyes. Hands calloused from long hours with a guitar, just like Miguel’s, but they’re soft as they tuck Coco in at night.

He closes his eyes… and sees the opposite of his father. Just who is this man?

Miguel turns another page form the book and a piece of paper falls out. But as Miguel reaches down, he quickly realizes it’s not a simple paper at all. He picks it up-

And an unfamiliar face stares back. And yet, bits of Coco are reflected from it, even though he can’t pinpoint exactly _how_. After all, people always said Coco got her mother’s looks.

Miguel’s heart races with wonder and excitement. This is him, the man whose name’s been taboo his entire life. Papá Héctor, the letters are signed.

“Héctor Rivera.” Miguel whispers. “Where are you?”

The warmth that’s been gathering in Miguel’s chest quickly turns to ice. Bitterness for a man who determined Miguel’s entire life without even being in it comes back with a vengeance. This man isn’t any better than papá or mamá. He wrote these wonderful letters, but he lied. If he’d truly loved his family, he would’ve come back. It’s just a trick, like when papá smiles at or embraces Miguel while visiting mamá’s brothers.

Miguel shivers, suddenly realizing just how alone he is. He wishes Dante was here, it seems he’s the only one on Miguel’s side. But papá chased him away, what if the dog never comes back? The thought makes Miguel shrink into himself with a fresh wave of despair.

Eventually, Miguel finds himself staring at another letter. But this one catches his eye… it’s… it’s the one he was reading back in Coco’s room…

_Just don’t forget,_

_‘Even if I’m far away, I’ll hold you in my heart,_

_I’ll sing a secret song to you each night we are apart._

_Remember… me.’_

Miguel stares at the paper in shock. Those lyrics, he knows those lyrics. That’s Ernesto de la Cruz’s ‘Remember Me’. But Ernesto wrote that song after Coco’s padre dropped contact. Way, way after that…

Miguel scrambles through the letters. He wasn’t paying attention before, but now…

_Me and my amigo Ernesto… do you remember Ernesto?... Ernesto did the craziest thing today…_

It can’t be.

Miguel looks up at de la Cruz’s portrait.

“Senor de la Cruz?” He asks hesitantly.

Miguel’s always looked up to Ernesto de la Cruz. The musician is his idol, the one person Miguel feels connected to. He was a hero who sang for sick children at hospitals and- and-

But it’s all here, now that Miguel digs deeper. Not just ‘Remember Me’, but others too.

“No…” Miguel breathes, horrified as the pieces start clicking together. Miguel's always been a clever kid, after all. “You… you were on the tour _together_ , you… stole his songs?” Miguel stands up unsteadily. “What did you do to him?”

All of Miguel’s hurt seems to turns to rage. He runs up to the portrait, climbing up on the coffin determinedly. “What did you _do_ to him?” He cries, slamming his fists against the portrait, betrayal swimming deep in his heart and stinging his eyes. He wants to rage and scream! To- to-

He tears de la Cruz’s guitar off the wall. “You don’t deserve this. You’re not a real musician.” He jumps to the floor, wincing only slightly, as adrenalin quickly soothes any lingering pain in his leg.

Breathing heavily, Miguel takes all his rage and hurt and expresses it the only way he ever knew how, he strums it in the guitar. One long, angry chord-

The sound echoes around the crypt, carrying Miguel’s anger with it. But suddenly, a wind blows the letters to the air. Miguel stares and- wait, was that  _gold_?

“Who’s in there?” A voice yells from outside the crypt. Miguel whirls around just as the door unlocks and an old guard steps inside with a flashlight. “Show yourself!”

“I’m sorry!” Miguel sets the guitar carefully. “I swear this isn’t what it looks like. De la Cruz-” The guard steps right through Miguel, sending a chill deep in the boy’s bones and making him yelp in fright.

Miguel runs.

“Miguel?” Coco’s familiar voice is like music to Miguel’s ears.

“Coco!” He sprints towards his sister.

“Miguel, are you here? Please, come out!” Coco’s voice shakes.

And Miguel runs straight at Coco’s arms… and right through them.

The sensation isn’t any easier the second time, it makes Miguel shudder and fall over. He stares at his own glowing hands. “Wha- what’s _happening_?”

“Woof!” Dante licks Miguel’s face, making the boy startle.

“D-Dante?” Miguel tries to catch his breath. “You can see me?”

But Dante takes off running.

Miguel jumps to his feet. “Dante, wait!” He chases the dog through the cemetery. “Wait!”

Both Miguel and Dante come to a sudden stop in front of a glowing bridge. “Are those…” He stares across “marigolds?” The sight is like something from a dream, except he’s awake… he’s pretty sure he is. He _feels_ awake, every wound left by his father still sending occasional jolts of pain, his right leg cramping up if with every other step.

But before Miguel can dwell on it anymore, Dante takes off running again, and so Miguel has no option but to follow his only friend across the glowing marigold bridge.

***

Miguel is scared. Terrified, if he’s being completely honest. Not like he’d actually admit it, Coco would never let him live it down.

Except Coco isn’t here and Miguel is in the land of the dead. Yes, Miguel knows the stories; you die and your soul travels to the land of the dead and as long as you’re remembered, you live on. But he thought it was just one of _those_ things adults told kids, like vitamins. However, it’s difficult to deny when the truth is staring Miguel in the face.

There are skeletons _everywhere_. Young and old, different shapes and sizes, just like real people. And the few that saw Miguel started screaming as if _he_ was the scary one… Well that’s how Miguel found himself in the corner of an alley, his hoody up and dog by his side, trying to figure out just what is happening.

“Am I…” Miguel gulps. “dead?” But no, he’s not a skeleton. It must have been the guitar, it was the last thing he touched before this started happening. But it was just a _stupid_ guitar, dios mío. “Dante? What am I supposed to do now?” He looks at his dog helplessly. Dante whines, pressing closer to Miguel’s side.

“Thanks buddy.” Miguel whispers, hugging the dog close. The motion makes something rumple inside Miguel’s pocket. Confused, the boy reveals a wrinkled paper.

_‘…nothing in the human language describes how much I love you,’_

Miguel carefully unsticks Héctor’s ripped photo from the letter, and puts the later back in his pocket. He looks at Dante, forehead scrunched up with thought. “We have to find Héctor, buddy.”

***

In the end, finding Héctor isn’t as hard as one might think. For one, Dante seems to have a pretty good idea of where he’s going, which is strange, but Miguel’s not about to question small blessings. So when Dante takes off again, Miguel follows him to a street market, where a disagreement is quickly brewing between the salesman and one rather homeless looking skeleton.

Miguel squints. “Is that…” He holds up the picture, then looks at the skeleton again. His eyes light up. “Héctor. You found him Dante!”

He goes to approach the man-

“Who do you think you are?” The salesman grumbles.

And ducks behind a food cart, pulling a confused Dante with him.

“Look, okay, okay, when I said I could trade you a suit… that was a lie. I apologize for doing that.” Héctor grins.

Miguel observes the exchange curiously. He half expects Héctor to start yelling, but the skeleton remains charming and witty. Is this truly him? The man Coco hinted at but never talked about and mamá banned for all time? He’s lean and… broken. Duct tape holding together his arm and one of his ribs. Miguel doesn’t know much about skeletons, but surely that’s not supposed to happen? Once again, Miguel finds himself wondering just _who this man is_.

Dante barking sends Miguel out of his thoughts. With a start he realizes Héctor is leaving. “Dante, come on.” Miguel pulls his hoody closer and starts following Héctor at a distance, darting into alleys when he can.

Héctor is fast, using his skeleton form in ways that leave Miguel staring after the man in amazement. Miguel also observes the little things, like a man waiting for a bus, a lady dragging a kid behind, he almost loses Héctor when a street musician catches his eye. Maybe skeletons aren’t that different from regular people?

Miguel turns around yet another corner, only to see the street empty. “What?” He looks around frantically. “No, no, no…” He has no way of finding Héctor if he loses him. Idiota, he should have approached the man when he had the chance. “What am I going to do now, Dan-”

Miguel yelps as he’s pulled into an alley.

“Why have you been following…” Héctor’s eyes widen. “me?”

Before either can say anything, Dante senses Miguel’s discomfort and growls out a warning, making Héctor step back.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I hope that wasn’t terrible or anything. I actually have most of the next chapter written, as they were supposed to be one long chapter, but it ended up too long and I’m not sure when I’ll manage to get more writing done, so I figured spreading it out is better.
> 
> Some things I want to establish, one this isn't happening on the day of the dead, which is why there were no skeletons around at first. Second, since things are happening a bit differently here, for one Miguel crossing over on a regular day, the 'curse' will be working differently as well. Maybe. We'll see.


End file.
